


Penned Treasures

by Mirdala



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Inktober 2018, M/M, There's ink it counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-28 10:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirdala/pseuds/Mirdala
Summary: Hanzo goes through a set of letters Jesse wrote him while away.





	1. Unfurled

Hanzo doesn’t consider himself particularly sentimental about objects. There are few items he keeps on his person or in his few bags of limited space. A bracelet from his childhood. His hair ribbons, each having a meaning. The pins on the strap of his backpack. Each retained for reasons beyond any sense of utility. Even after joining Overwatch his ways of traveling nomadically light has yet to change. The one change putting Hanzo in a sticky situation is Jesse McCree. The man is a habitual giver of trinkets and tokens. Hanzo wasn’t expecting these notions of affection when their friendship rose to a romantic standing. Regardless of how small or few in number, Hanzo now has too many…things doesn’t seem like the right word. Things implies they aren’t special or personal. Or have a weight worth carrying. Or remind him of Jesse’s warmth and smiles. Of their shared laughs over drinks. Or the relief Hanzo feels being near him. Momentos? No. Gifts? No. That won’t do either… A small smile spreads as the word finally appears to him.

Treasures.

Like a dragon lovingly sorting its hoard of riches, Hanzo sits on his and Jesse’s bed carefully handling each item Jesse has given him. Barely enough to fill a pant’s pocket. Finally he reaches for a small tube. A cigar tube nearly as wide as his palm and thicker than his thumb. The logo isn’t of Jesse’s usual brand but it fit the required purpose perfectly. The cap twists off easily, still after all this time. Slipping a finger into it, Hanzo slides out small sheets of lined cream colored paper. Hanzo unrolls the batch of papers the opposite direction to unfurl them.

He traces the edges of the letters from Jesse, written while he was away on a month’s long scouting mission. He went completely off the grid and Hanzo hated it. The only respite were these letters in sealed cigar tubes, stamped with  _HS_  on the lids. Jesse left them in the data caches Winston’s drones would retrieve. Genji teased Hanzo relentlessly each time he was handed a small tube from Winston. The rest of the team of course had to chime in once Genji opened the gates. The majority of them thought it a loving and thoughtful gesture. Especially since they all had to deal with a less than pleased Hanzo while Jesse was away.

Hanzo pocketed the tube, listened to the brief report Jesse provided in the data cache, refusing to abscond to their shared room to read the letter. He denied the others a chance to giggle and beam at his back. Now though it seems such a petty thing. Hanzo looks to the ceiling of the room wondering how Jesse put up with his cagey demeanor.

In the end Hanzo obtained a total of five cigar tubes, how Jesse managed to sealed the tubes with wax while out in the middle of nowhere remains a mystery. Hanzo easily imagines the wink and chuckle of Jesse’s reply, stating he was a man of mystery. Hanzo rolled his eyes as the hypothetical response.

The papers were worn even before Jesse penned words on them. The quality of the paper the only resistance from time and the elements. The type favored by writers and artists, before tablets became commonplace. The feel of it grounds Hanzo. Scent of smoked spice and vanilla. They still curl in on themselves. He delicately holds the sheets flat, pinned between the length of his fingers of one hand, pinched gently between the finger tips of his other.

He reads.

  



	2. The  vast sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another week goes by and Hanzo gets another letter.

Hanzo slides the next set of pages into his hands. 

 

 

Jesse was right. It was cruel. Hanzo wished he could have been there. Out in the middle of no where. Not a soul other than Jesse within any amount of distance to be worrisome. He would have relished just being, not a care other than if Jesse was happy. Being fairly simple to please, the task wouldn’t have been hard. Hanzo worries the corner edge of the page.

They never got to go on that trip.

 


	3. A tussel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 3 
> 
> I got sick and was put out of commission for an entire week. But I finished all the letters today!

Hanzo slide the next set of pieces of paper into view. He gave a huff looking back at his response when he first read the letter.

 

He had be completely jealous Jesse was out and about being rowdy without him. Hanzo was always up for a good bar fight. 

* * *

 

Fareeha didn’t expect Hanzo to hand her a small folded piece of paper with a message to her. From Jesse, he had said. She carefully unfolded it.

 

 

She stared at the drawing astonished. He had improved so much! But being called a punk rankled her, causing to her to be irrationally angry the rest of the day.


	4. Almost home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 4!! McCree does not like getting muddy.


	5. Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only three days for this letter. Means it’s short. Doesn’t mean it isn’t any less important. Was really fun doing these. Will be doing them next year for sure.

The last page Jesse wrote on comes to the top of the stack. Hanzo grits his teeth. He wants to throw this one piece of paper away. It’s torn, crumpled, and stained. It drives a spike of helplessness into his chest. This letter wasn’t delivered like the others. Dr Ziegler gave this one to him. She had apologized. She tore a piece of it off when she pried it from Jesse’s hand. It was stiff, the blood having dried partly in the fibers of the paper. 

Hanzo stood staring into the operating room, the letter clutched tightly in his hand, just as Jesse had, he hadn’t moved the entire time watching until the doctor and her assistants tiredly pull of their scrubs. Also covered in blood. Like the letter. The floor. The instruments on the tables. All of it. Covered. In Jesse’s blood. 

She saw him standing there when she came out, reaching out gently to place a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t react like she had expected, jerk away or shake himself aware. He remained completely still. 

“Hanzo, come on.” She led him away from the operating room viewing window into the recovery ward. He went with her without resisting. 

Automatically. 

Mechanically. 

She set him in a chair.

“He’ll be awake sooner than you think.” Hanzo finally becomes aware of his surroundings when she gives him a gentle pat and weak smile.

The machines beeps and hiss on the other side of the bed. Wires and tubes hooked onto and into Jesse. 

Hanzo stretched a hand out, grasping Jesse’s. Not nearly as warm as it should be in his hold. Holding Jesse’s hand Hanzo finally unravels the letter and reads.

 

 

“What are you doin’ there darling?” The bed sinks when Jesse sits next to him.

Hanzo answers him with a hard pressed kiss. Jesse makes a sound of surprise before melting into Hanzo’s arms. 

“Like my letters that much, huh?” Jesse asks when they finally pull apart. Hanzo doesn’t let him get far. He presses their foreheads together. He nearly lost Jesse at the end of that mission. They had both thought he was in the clear. All set to be picked up when he was ambushed on the way to the extraction point. Jesse cleared the area but he took some grievous wounds. 

Hanzo hated and loved that what could have been Jesse’s last act was to write him a letter. To tell Hanzo he loved him. 

That day Hanzo’s world changed. 

Hanzo cards a hand through Jesse’s hair teasing a pleased hum from his love’s chest. 

“They will always be a treasure of mine.” 


End file.
